This past Christmas, Brad and I spent several days in Orlando, FL with my parents. My sister and her family joined in the fun, too, and it was good for us to all be together. Being all together doesn’t happen nearly as often as we’d like, so when it does, we cherish that time.

And also, being all together often means it can become cramped and chaotic and loud, especially with a three and five year old niece and nephew in the picture. While we’re at my parents’ house, there is really only one thing that will motivate them to settle down, and that is the possibility of getting to see and play with my parents’ cat, Dolly.

Now, Dolly will warm up to a couple of us pretty easily, but mostly, she is pretty elusive, especially when the kids are around. They’d give anything to interact with her, but don’t realize that, in order to do so, there needs to be a relative sense of calm in the house. They’ll be doing their thing, playing their games, singing their songs, and then randomly, one of them will ask, “Where’s Dolly?” To which we reply, “She’s probably upstairs hiding—remember, she’s shy.”

It’s in the rare moments when both kids are sitting on the couch, quietly watching something on TV, that Dolly will decide it might be safe enough to make an appearance. So, she’ll come down and sneak her way into the living room. Eventually, one of the kids will spot her and immediately disrupt the calm by declaring, “THERE’S DOLLY!” And just like that, Dolly disappears once again.

One day I’m sure they will put two and two together, understanding what we’ve been trying to explain all along—that if they want to befriend Dolly, they must get to know her slowly, quietly, gently. For better or for worse, that is her way.

One of the things I’ve been considering lately is if it might our way, too. The way of our souls. Here’s what I mean.

Observing these Dolly interactions {or lack thereof} is always entertaining for sure. But it reminds me of something I learned from Parker Palmer by way of Emily P. Freeman several years ago. It’s an insight that has helped me come to know my own soul in a way I didn’t know I needed. In his book, A Hidden Wholeness, Parker Palmer writes,

“The soul is like a wild animal—tough, resilient, savvy, self-sufficient and yet exceedingly shy. If we want to see a wild animal, the last thing we should do is to go crashing through the woods, shouting for the creature to come out. But if we are willing to walk quietly into the woods and sit silently for an hour or two at the base of a tree, the creature we are waiting for may well emerge, and out of the corner of an eye we will catch a glimpse of the precious wildness we seek.”

What an incredibly beautiful and helpful image for us as we consider what it might mean and look like to greet and get to know our very own souls.

Our souls are more shy than we often realize, even for the most outgoing and extroverted among us. And more often than not, they are stifled by the burden of daily demands and over-functioning schedules. There is so much noise and distraction, so much vying for our attention. We are pushed and pulled in multiple directions. We are stretched too thin. And in all of that swirling noise and chaos, our souls cower, scurry off, crumple up, and hide away in a dark, undisclosed corner, overlooked and ignored. Just like that, an integral part of who we are is completely out of sight, out of mind, forgotten. And as much as we might feel this is normal, I wonder if maybe there is a better way.

What might it look like to catch a glimpse of our wild souls? To let them emerge, unfold, be welcomed softly into the light? How might we discover and live with a deeper awareness of God at work within so we might continue to serve faithfully beyond?

Well, of course there is not one end-all-be-all formula for how to greet your soul. But I’d like to offer that it might begin by greeting our souls slowly, quietly, gently. And for that kind of greeting, we might find it helpful to practice silence and solitude. Silence and solitude are a powerful combination. They work together to help create a space and foster a calm in which our souls feel safe enough to truly be seen and to deeply be known.

This is a practice that Jesus knew well. All throughout the gospels, we see examples of Jesus going away by himself, to a quiet place, to be with God. His ministry began this way, and it continued to be a regular part of his rhythm. Jesus knew what it was to greet and nourish his soul with the love and presence of God. And as per usual, his example is one worth following.

First, we might begin with solitude. Jesus regularly went away by himself. Now, it feels important to note that solitude is not the same as isolation. Isolation is a form of disconnection, while solitude is a means of connection. Really, Jesus withdrew in order to connect. Solitude might look like being alone, but it is being alone with God. It is intentionally stepping away from the distractions and demands of our lives, setting ourselves apart, pausing long enough to remember the love God has for us and to remind ourselves of who we are in Christ.

Next, we might incorporate silence. During his times of solitude, Jesus specifically retreated to quiet places. Now, if you’re like me, it might be tempting in solitude to turn on some music, watch a show, scroll on your phone, or listen to a podcast, but silence is key. We know God can and does connect with us in a variety of ways, and sometimes the means God uses are obvious, loud, and clear. But St. John of the Cross believed, “silence is God’s first language.” God often chooses to speak to us from the hidden depths of who we are. Through our very own souls.

Silence and solitude. It’s pretty simple combination, but that doesn’t mean putting it into practice is easy. I am fully aware that for some, a practice like this sounds amazing, and for others, it is downright terrifying. I’m also aware that for some, it feels very doable, and for others, it seems absolutely impossible. It might be difficult to even consider where to begin. But one thing I’m learning is that cultivating silence and prioritizing the solitude needed to experience it is paramount if we are going to greet and get to know our souls. It’s worth a try. And it’s okay to start small.

So maybe you begin with just five minutes a day. Five minutes in which you withdraw and breathe and quietly let yourself be.

Or, if possible, maybe you commit to keeping silence while driving alone in your car.

Maybe you participate in a one-day silent retreat offered and facilitated by a local church or ministry.

Or maybe you seek out a spiritual director, who can help you hold that silence and bear witness as you sit in solitude.

No matter how you choose to begin {or choose to continue, if this is a practice you already engage} every little bit counts. Every little bit matters. Every little bit is a small kindness we offer our souls as we seek to greet them gently and provide the space they need to remember and respond to the voice of love.

As Henri Nouwen once offered,

At first silence {and solitude} might only frighten us. In silence {and solitude} we start hearing voices of darkness: our jealousy and anger, our resentment and desire for revenge, our lust and greed, and our pain over losses, abuses, and rejections. These voices are often noisy and boisterous. They may even deafen us. Our most spontaneous reaction is to run away from them and return to our entertainment.

But if we have the discipline to stay put and not let these dark voices intimidate us, they will gradually lose their strength and recede into the background, creating space for the softer, gentler voices of the light.

These voices speak of peace, kindness, gentleness, goodness, joy, hope, forgiveness, and most of all, love. They might at first seem small and insignificant, and we may have a hard time trusting them. However, they are very persistent and they will be stronger if we keep listening… They are part of God’s voice calling us from all eternity: “My beloved child, my favorite one, my joy.”

That is the message our souls most need to hear. May we offer them the space to hear it—to be truly seen, deeply known, and wholly loved.

Today, remember and consider how to greet your soul. Slowly, quietly, gently. In doing so, may our souls feel safe enough to emerge and flourish and grow as we continue to become the people God calls and invites us to be.